


Tied (Fast 'n' Dirty Remix)

by akamine_chan



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Community: rounds_of_kink, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-10
Updated: 2008-08-10
Packaged: 2017-10-02 12:25:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamine_chan/pseuds/akamine_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's watched him, his blue eyes blind, experiencing some other place, some other time, swimming in the currents of his prophecy. Dwarfed by what he has sensed, engulfed and swallowed whole. Lost and reaching out to her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tied (Fast 'n' Dirty Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Tied](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6297) by [akamine_chan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamine_chan/pseuds/akamine_chan). 



> Written for the Livejournal community rounds_of_kink - the Summer Heat Mini-Round 2008.
> 
> Unbeta'd. Expanded from a snippet for ds_snippets.
> 
> Warning: restraint, BDSM.
> 
> Prompt: sweat  
> Kink: hot spots

She's watched him, his blue eyes blind, experiencing some _other_ place, some _other_ time, swimming in the currents of his prophecy. Dwarfed by what he has sensed, engulfed and swallowed whole. Lost and reaching out to her.

She's seen him quiet and meditative for days, contemplating his visions, trying to fit them into what he knows, puzzling over the bits and pieces, struggling to make it complete.

She's seen him afraid as he lost his power over her, when she'd finally pushed him away and took her destiny into her own hands. Stood on her own two feet, without help or hindrance from him.

She's never seen him sweat. Never seen him lose control.

She wants that. She _needs_ it. She can taste it.

After a brief search, she finds a long silk scarf, left behind and scavenged at some point. It's dark blue and she thinks about how it will look knotted around his beautiful, expressive hands, the contrast of light and dark.

She waits.

One night she finds him lying in their rumpled bed, drowsy and relaxed, the lighting soft. He's wearing a pair of loose sweat pants and nothing more. She sits down cross-legged on the bed, watching him hungrily. She pulls the scarf out from under her pillow and winds it between her hands.

He looks at her, a knowing smirk crossing his weathered face.

"No." Her voice is quiet, confident. "Not me. _You_."

That catches him by surprise. It pushes him off balance and makes him hesitant and unsure. She watches as his eyes reflect what he feels, excitement and anxiety and arousal. Always coming back to the fear.

She can't really blame him. Their history is full of fear, and blood. Trust has been hard to come by.

She _needs_ this, though, and he seems to recognize that.

He crosses his wrists and raises them over his head, puts them against the headboard of their bed and waits.

She leans over him and wraps the scarf around his wrists, once, twice and binds his hands tightly to the wood. She pulls back to look at her handiwork. There's something almost obscenely sexual about the way he looks, tied and helpless, breathing fast and fearful.

He's terrified. She can feel it in the rapid pounding of his heart, in the slight tremor she feels running through his body. He's aroused. She can feel _that_, too, in the hardness between his legs and the heat that's radiating off of him.

She cups him gently through his pants, tenderly tracing the shape of him, rubbing and petting and loving him, listening to the sounds he's trying to hold back, the gasps and moans and groans he's not ready to give to her. She hums quietly, content to be patient in this, feeling her own arousal growing with his.

She leans up again and presses her lips to his, licking at his dry lips, coaxing him to open for her. With a sigh, he relaxes and lets her in. She slips her tongue inside, tasting him, feeling his warmth, exploring the wet slickness of his mouth. Keeping him cupped in her hand, she nibbles her way to his ear and spends some time carefully exploring. Tracing the whorls, nipping at the tender skin of the lobe. She can feel his pulse through his cock and that stirs the hunger between her thighs.

She follows the curve of his neck, biting at the tendons, a little roughly, hearing the breathy little grunt he gives when she licks at him. She loves the way he tastes, sweat-salty and musky. She likes the feel of him under her mouth. She feels him tug hard at the scarf and laughs breathlessly. She kisses her way down the slope of his shoulder, tracing the muscles, mouthing his skin, listening to his breathing turn into panting as she rubs a little harder against his cock, keeping him interested in what she's doing.

There's a brief pause as she considers her options. She can continue to follow the path she's on, down his ribs, maybe investigating his sensitive nipples before heading further down his body. Or she can take a brief detour, explore his arm and his hands, take each finger into her mouth and suck on it like she wants to suck on something else, a symbolic approximation of where they both actually want her mouth to be.

She likes that. She likes his hands, long fingered and oddly jointed, but beautifully expressive. She spends a lot of time imagining his hand on her, touching her with those fingers. She puts her mouth on the underside of his arm, where his skin is very pale and soft, mostly untouched by the sun. She lays a kiss there before biting at him, feeling the strength of him between her teeth.

Every muscle in his body goes taut and his cock throbs in her hand. She looks at his face, surprised as his reaction to a simple bite. His head is thrown back and he's biting at his lip, breathing hard through his nose. She can hear the very beginning of a moan and she wants _more_. He's beautiful like this. She bites him there again, and again, never hard enough to break skin, but hard enough to leave bruises. And each time, his body tightens and arches, thrusting into her hand, fighting for the release that she denies him by easing back her touch.

She teases him until he's covered with a sheen of sweat that turns his skin into gold in the lamplight. He's twisting and moaning and if he could catch his breath, she's sure he'd be begging. He's hot and hard and wet in her hand and he's hot and sweat-slick between her teeth. She bites him once more on his hot spot and sits up to look at him.

He's so beautiful like this, open and trusting and incoherent. Reaching into his sweats, she starts to stroke his erection, driving him towards his orgasm hard and fast, but keeping her mouth sweet and gentle on his, pressing soft kisses to the corner of his mouth, his cheek, his fluttering eyelids. It doesn't take long before he's gasping and moaning and jerking convulsively against her, warm fluid splattering against her hand and making him slide silkily between her fingers. She slows and gentles her touch, still kissing him and feeling the tension leaving his body, leaving him relaxed and boneless, on the verge of sleep.

She reaches, ignoring his grumpy mutter, and unties the scarf, rubbing at the marks that dug into his skin, red and angry. She kisses the marks, trying to erase them with her mouth as he _purrs_ at her like a big, sleepy cat, a soft, contented rumble in his chest moments before he starts snoring.

"Thank you," she whispers against his temple, snuggling against him and pulling the covers up over them.

-fin-

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Tied](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6297) by [akamine_chan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamine_chan/pseuds/akamine_chan)




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